


Turning Over a New Leaf

by in_deepest_blue



Series: in_deepest_blue's Good Omens Bingo 2021 Fics [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Artistic License — Botany, Crushes, Eric can be read as asexual / on the ace spectrum in this fic, Eric is Crowley's #1 fan, Families of Choice, Fluff, Good Omens Bingo 2021, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Rare Omens, Rare Omens Month, Rare Pairings, Redemption, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unrequited Crush, Valentine's Day, trigger warning: some mentions of cruel pranks and workplace bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29238936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/in_deepest_blue/pseuds/in_deepest_blue
Summary: Eric has admired Crowley for the longest time — who wouldn't? The stylish red-haired demon seemed to have it all. But there was yet another reason, one that he wouldn't dare tell other demons: he thought that Crowley was rather kind, actually.Written for the Good Omens Bingo 2021's "Hell" and "exotic plants" prompts, as well as Rare Omens' prompt for Feb. 6th, "Crowley x Eric the Disposable Demon."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Disposable Demon (Good Omens), Crowley/Disposable Demon (Good Omens)
Series: in_deepest_blue's Good Omens Bingo 2021 Fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127450
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021, Rare Omens





	Turning Over a New Leaf

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by [one of the series' deleted scenes](https://youtu.be/KRmwxULVqFQ?t=551), in which Eric asks for permission to hit Aziraphale at his execution. Of course, that's not really Aziraphale but Crowley — not that Eric would know! 
> 
> I headcanon Eric as being younger than the other demons — basically, he hadn't been around during the Fall, and is only a few millennia (or maybe even centuries) old compared to, say, Crowley and Hastur. That's part of why he's low on the hierarchy, and gets pushed around by the other demons. I (and apparently, many other fellow _Good Omens_ fans) also think that he's a huge Crowley fanboy.
> 
> Despite that deleted scene, I'd like to think that Eric's nicer than the other demons (his idol has really rubbed off on him) — prone to mischief, yes, but not outright malice.

**Sometime in the 1970s**

Eric fretfully clutched the putrid-smelling potted plant in his hands. “I haven’t got the slightest clue about plants,” he confessed to it sheepishly. “But I heard Crowley likes them, so I hope he likes you, too.” 

The young, dark-haired demon had been a fan of Crowley’s for as long as he could remember. Hastur often grumbled about how Crowley was a flash bastard who was all style but no substance, but Eric begged to differ. In his eyes, Crowley had it all, and Hastur was just jealous. 

And who wouldn’t be? Crowley was good-looking, charming, and cool. He did his job well, and, as he always liked to say, he did it with style — no wonder he quickly became the big boss’s favorite. Plus, the notoriously hard-to-please Beelzebub could hardly complain about Crowley’s work, and many junior demons like himself aspired to be like Crowley. 

As far as Eric was concerned, Hastur could sod off,[1] because how could Crowley have earned the boss’s favor if he were just slacking off or not working hard enough?

But there was yet another reason why Eric admired Crowley, one that he wouldn’t dare tell other demons, lest they think he’d lost his mind. (Not that you could trust the average demon, anyway.) Although he was sure that Crowley wouldn’t want to hear it, Eric thought that Crowley was rather kind, actually. 

Sure, demons weren’t supposed to be kind; they were instead supposed to delight in misery and drag others down with them. But, having constantly gotten the short end of the stick from other demons, Eric couldn’t help but wonder: would it kill the other demons to not actively make Hell more bleak and depressing than it already was for their co-workers? The dankness and dim lighting (if you could even call it that) of the entire place were already bad enough. 

Crowley was the only demon that Eric knew who didn’t take pleasure in causing anything more than some mischief, and even then, he mostly did that up on Earth. He was prone to sarcasm, and Eric could easily tell that the overly polite tone that Crowley sometimes used when talking to higher-ups like Beelzebub was sarcastic. Otherwise, Crowley wasn’t cruel or sadistic.

Eric would never forget the time when some Princes and Dukes of Hell had sent him on a wild goose chase, until Crowley put it to a halt by saying that he needed Eric to carry out an important task for him. Eric had been so confused when Crowley said that there was no task. 

Thinking that Crowley was pranking him, the disposable demon had waited for a punchline, but it never came — Crowley had to spell it out for him: “Really, it just looked like you needed to get those pricks off your back. They love preying on fresh meat.”

“You… you saved me,” Eric had said, dumbfounded. But all of a sudden, Crowley’s eyes darted frantically across the hallway. 

Crowley’s tone suddenly shifted to a low and dangerous one. “No, I didn’t. Don’t you go around spreading lies.”

It was then that Eric realized that even though it was common knowledge that demons couldn’t trust fellow demons, maybe Crowley was the exception.

That encounter marked the beginning of Eric’s fascination with Crowley. But it went beyond simple adoration and admiration — no, Eric’s feelings were far deeper. Had he been familiar with the vast gamut of human emotions, he would’ve known that what he felt was romantic affection, but that was a term that he would only learn about later on. 

Whatever it was, Eric felt a certain kind of yearning, a burning desire to get to know Crowley better and spend more time with him. Most other demons had a very limited range of understanding of emotions — it wasn’t like they were encouraged to be in touch with their feelings, after all — so Eric didn’t bother bringing the matter up to anyone. Most likely, other demons would just chalk it down to lust, but Eric didn’t think that was it.

Today was Eric’s chance to shoot his shot — Valentine’s Day was coming up in a few days, and, conveniently, Crowley was Down Here for a report. Contrary to misconception, Hell actually approved of Valentine’s Day as much as Heaven did. Heaven took credit for all the love in the air, but Hell thrived on the lust, commercialism, and so on.

Not to mention, the fourteenth of February also happened to be a perfect day for Hell to spread misery among co-workers. In line with the higher-ups’ predilection for cruelty, Valentine’s Day was a prime occasion for pranks. 

Opportunities were rife: at the very least, you could give a fellow demon a gag gift. That was considered a low-level prank for the uncreative, insipid demon, though. Instead, many delighted in toying with emotions, such as confessing to a co-worker, only to reveal that it was just a lie (“who would ever be attracted to _you_?”). The other way around — rejecting a fellow demon in the harshest, most painful ways possible — was common, too. 

But sometimes, some lucky demons could snag themselves a hookup for the night, which was why Hell’s denizens, especially naive young demons, still tried their luck anyway.

Eric didn’t want to hook up with Crowley, though. At the very least, he just wanted to let Crowley know that he really admired him and felt something special (however unidentifiable) for him, so he’d done his best to get Crowley a present that he might like. Crowley was incredibly attractive, so Eric was sure that the former had had his share of propositions and confessions, but he’d hoped Crowley would appreciate the effort and pay attention to him.

Just earlier, the disposable demon had snuck off to Hell’s infernal garden, where all sorts of ghastly flora of all shapes, colors, and sizes grew. Eric wasn’t sure which plant Crowley would like — he’d heard that the tiny plant that was called parsley also existed in the human realm — so he’d taken what he thought was the loveliest among them all: a bright-red speckled flower that they called “corpse flower” because of its stench. 

It had helped, too, that despite the flower’s smell, it posed no threat, unlike some other gnarly-looking ones that had razor-sharp teeth… and its color matched Crowley’s hair. Some other plants looked like they might put up a fight if Eric were to try to put them in a pot, but not the corpse flower. _Hopefully this one won’t be too much trouble for Crowley to take care of,_ he’d thought.

Eric felt a mix of anticipation and dread as he paced and looked around the area for any signs of Crowley. If all went well, maybe Crowley might get him something nice on the 14th. But what if Crowley would turn him down the way other demons did? Eric liked to think that Crowley wouldn’t be like that, but the red-haired demon was, well, still a demon, after all — what if insulting Eric while rejecting him was part of his idea of mischief?

After what felt like an eternity, Crowley’s meeting with Beelzebub came to an end, and Eric spotted his idol’s telltale red hair, pushing his way past some demons. Eric understood that Crowley was a very busy demon, and that he didn’t seem to like spending time Down Below for too long (who could blame him?), so he willed himself to not screw this up and to not waste Crowley’s time.

Eric followed Crowley down a long, winding hallway, until it was just the two of them. “Crowley!”

As Eric called out to him, Crowley turned his head. At first, he didn’t look too pleased at being stalled, but his countenance softened. “Ah. It’s you. Eric, innit?”

“Yes, sir.”

“No need to call me ‘sir.’”

“Yes, sir… er, Crowley. Um, there’s something that I need to discuss with you. Got a moment to spare? I promise I’ll make it quick.”

“Well, it better be. Got some appointments up there. Can’t keep the stakeholder waiting.”

_Fine, let’s just get this over with_ , Eric thought, presenting a very surprised Crowley with a potted plant. “I heard you like plants, and Valentine’s Day is coming up soon, so… I got you this. You’re really special to me, and I… uh… I think you’re the coolest! Please accept this corpse flower; it’s not a prank!”

Eric mentally cursed himself for forgetting the much more eloquent speech that he’d come up with — he prepared for this moment; he really did! But alas, he fell prey to the all-too-common phenomenon of fumbling your words in the face of someone you like.

His brows furrowed, Crowley examined the plant carefully, as if to make sure that he wasn’t being subjected to one of Hell’s stupid pranks. Once satisfied, his stance became more relaxed, and his voice — dare Eric say it? — gentler. 

“There really is a first time for everything. Thanks for my first-ever present from Hell, Eric. Guess there are still some not-so-terrible beings Down Here.” Crowley paused, as if hesitant. After taking a deep breath, he resumed with, “Look, after all the trouble you got to get me this, I hate to say it, but… I can’t return your feelings. It’s not because you’re vile or foul, okay? I just don’t feel the way you do.”

To his own surprise, Eric wasn’t crushed by the rejection. But then again, he’d expected as much, and he didn’t have his hopes up too high to begin with. Crowley didn’t beat around the bush, but at least he was gentle, so, if anything, Eric only grew fonder of him.

“Hey, chin up. Maybe you’ll find someone — and you’ll forget about me, even.” Crowley patted Eric on the arm. Before he left, he dug something out of his pants pocket. “Oh yeah, got some chocolate. ‘S what humans like to give each other during Valentine’s Day. Friends and family exchange them too, not just lovers. This one’s cheap chocolate, but here, try some.”

That day, Eric learned that human food wasn’t as disgusting as the other demons liked to say it was.

* * *

**2019**

A month after the world didn’t end, Eric snuck away from his colleagues to check his smartphone,[2] one of the best things he’d bought with his infernal paycheck. The most unforgettable spectacle of his entire existence still played back in his mind like it was only yesterday. Why, he’d even had the honor of delivering hellfire to Heaven; it was his first time up there! 

With Crowley’s failed execution still fresh in his memories, Eric wondered what had become of Crowley and that angel. He knew nothing else about the angel other than his name, since his higher-ups never bothered to keep him in the loop, But he’d hoped that Crowley, at the very least, was all right. He just had to check Crowley’s social media — something he took every chance to do whenever he had the time — to see how his idol was doing.

Eric opened Instagram to see what he’d missed out on. Immediately, his feed displayed a succession of posts from the only account that he followed. The very first post he saw was a selfie of Crowley and that very same angel that Heaven was supposed to execute — the one that he’d asked for permission to hit. 

In the photo, Crowley had his arm around the angel, who looked a bit shy — like he was caught off-guard — but otherwise completely at ease with the sunglasses-wearing demon being so close to him. Granted, no one ever looked happy down in Hell, but Eric had never seen Crowley look that happy in the entire time that they’d known each other.

“ **YES WE’RE OFFICIAL NOW; HATERS FUCK OFF** ,” proclaimed the caption. So the rumors were true, then! Back then, the demons that gossiped about Crowley fraternizing with an angel often spoke of him deridingly, so Eric had just dismissed their idle chatter as borne out of envy.

Suddenly, Eric was hit by a nagging, sinking feeling that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It wasn’t that he was resentful of the angel or unhappy for Crowley — the other demon’s rejection back then was already clear enough. He was struck with the urge to reach out and apologize to Crowley and, of course, the angel. 

Maybe it was delusional of him, but Eric had sometimes entertained the hope that he and Crowley could be friends, though that tiny flicker of hope had practically been snuffed out by Crowley’s retirement. 

And now, Eric had just discovered that the angel he’d tried to hit was Crowley’s special someone, most likely the very same angel that he was rumored to have been seeing all those years. How could Eric even dream of becoming friends with Crowley when he’d done something like that? 

Whether or not Crowley wanted to be friends with him, Eric couldn’t live with the fact that he was excited to do something terrible to someone dear to Crowley. He had to do something, somehow!

After a bit of an internal struggle, Eric concluded that he had nothing to lose by trying, anyway. _Except my dignity, but whatever — it can’t be much worse than working for Hastur._

Mustering all his courage, Eric typed out a message[3] to Crowley, confessing what he’d said at Aziraphale’s execution, and how it was eating at him. Ending the message with, “I’m willing to apologize in person, if you’re ok with meeting up,” he hit the Send button and waited.

* * *

“What the hell… heaven… whatever gave you the idea to attempt to hit the angel, anyway?” Crowley demanded. Before taking up the matter with Aziraphale, the retired demon had first insisted on meeting Eric one-on-one to get a feel of his intentions. “After what you did? You should be grateful I even agreed to meet up. You didn’t seem half-bad, but then you just _had_ to do that.”

“I’m sorry! I really am!” Eric was practically blubbering by now. “It’s no excuse, I know, but I thought it just counted as regular mischief! You invented the ‘fuck being the bigger person; I’m gonna start biting people’ meme, so I thought I’d try doing something like that. I swear I had no idea that the angel was important to you—thought he was just another wanker, like the rest.”

Crowley sighed. “Hmm. Point taken. Truth be told, I wouldn’t be opposed to punching some other angel,” he said conspiratorially. “Ol’ Sandalphon’s practically asking for it. But really, Eric. Even if you didn’t know what Aziraphale meant to me, it should’ve been clear that he was no ordinary angel. They wouldn’t have tried to execute him if he were your average bootlicker, would they?”

“...yeah. I didn’t realize that, and that was stupid of me.” 

“So yes, when I’d heard about the incident, ‘pissed’ was an understatement. To punch Aziraphale would’ve been punching down. Do you have any idea of how he’s been treated? Basically, the same way Hell treats _you_ —except with Heaven’s signature veneer of niceness and civility.”

Eric had nothing to say as he took in Crowley’s words. 

“He’s been in denial for the longest time about how badly they treated him over there, but at the same time, he’s very easily drawn to outcasts and underdogs. To the bullied and oppressed. That’s the kind of angel he is. The only decent one among their lot… the most human of them all,” Crowley went on. “Remember that corpse flower you gave me? It’s actually not meant to survive on Earth. Wouldn’t have lasted more than a day. Might’ve caused trouble to my plants, too.”

“Oh.”

“But you know what Aziraphale did? He offered to rehome it. He said, ‘Maybe there’s still a fighting chance for this little one.’ And wouldn’t you know — he doesn’t have a single clue about gardening; I should know — but somehow, it’s been thriving in his shop. The little bugger looks pretty happy, too — I swear it sometimes looks like its petals are dancing about. And it’s all because Aziraphale believed that it could survive. You really picked the wrong angel to threaten, Eric. I hope you understand that.”

Eric shuffled about, hanging his head in shame. “Yeah, so if you never want to have anything to do with me again, I totally understand. I just hope you know that I’m sorry.”

“Now, let’s not talk about burning bridges just yet. It’s obvious that you feel bad about what you did, so I’ll talk to Aziraphale. If he’s comfortable with you, if he’s willing to forgive you, then I will be, too.”

* * *

Eric tried not to use his smartphone too often, since he didn’t want Hell to know that he followed Crowley on all his accounts. He definitely didn’t want to risk his superiors getting intrigued enough to pry[4] into his smartphone activity.

Normally, he could go without checking his phone daily, or even weekly, but this time was different. He’d been awaiting Crowley’s response with a mix of anxiety and excitement, so he’d been taking more breaks than usual just to see if any new notifications had come in. Luckily for him, Hell looked the other way when it came to sloth, as long as work was still getting done — which meant that no one had gotten suspicious enough to keep an eye on Eric.

The demon wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally got the reply that he was waiting for.

“Aziraphale says he’d be happy to hear your apology. Don’t mess this up.”

Eric hugged his phone to his chest, thanking Someone for this shot at making things right. But his relief was soon replaced with nervousness. What to do? Where to start…?

* * *

The awaited day arrived — Eric had requested some time off just for the occasion. Crowley picked him up at St. James’ Park, from where Aziraphale’s bookshop was just a short drive away. 

Despite his anxiousness, Eric had to stop himself from squealing with delight at the fact that he was riding the sleek car of Crowley’s that he’d seen in several of the stylish demon’s posts. _Calm down,_ he told himself. _You don’t want to let on just how much of a Crowley fanboy you still are, do you? Besides, you still have an apology to make._

They stopped in front of Aziraphale’s bookshop. “Well, here we are.” Crowley got out of the driver’s seat to open the door for Eric. “As long as you mean it, you’ll be fine. Aziraphale doesn’t bite… er, smite.”

That still wasn’t enough to assuage Eric, who was a bundle of nerves at that point. As he and Crowley stepped into the bookshop, Eric braced himself for what he’d come here to do.

Aziraphale greeted him warmly, and Eric instantly noticed that the angel had a very calming presence. He wasn’t sure if it was due to his ethereal nature, or if the angel just naturally had that effect on people. Not only was his voice soft and kindly, but his clothes also looked both comfortable and, somehow, comforting.

“Hello there. Crowley tells me your name is Eric,” the angel said warmly. 

“Y-yes… and you must be Aziraphale…”

“I am, yes.”

Eric froze, unable to form words. Even though Aziraphale had a way of putting people at ease, things were still a bit overwhelming for the young demon. Unless it was to a supervisor — complete with excessive groveling and begging not to be discorporated, apologizing was not something that came easily to demons. And Eric wasn’t about to apologize to just anyone; he really was right here, before an angel — Crowley’s beloved angel, no less.

It seemed, though, that Aziraphale could sense Eric’s unease almost uncannily, as he tried to break the ice. “It’s very brave of you to come here to apologize. Why don’t you sit down on the couch — Crowley and I love to chat here; it’s quite cozy — and let me make you some tea?”

“Tea?” Eric didn’t understand. He felt that twinge (which, according to Crowley, was called “guilt”) in his demonic heart again. Why was Aziraphale being so nice to him?

“It’s a warm drink. Crowley calls me a sap for saying this, but I really do think that it has a way of warming up your body and soul. Now go on, sit down. We can continue talking over tea.” With that, Aziraphale excused himself, and Crowley plopped down on the couch, gesturing for Eric to follow suit.

As Eric gingerly took a seat, he was drawn to something sitting on the windowsill: the corpse flower that he’d gifted Crowley with back then. Just as Crowley had said, it was like it had been given new life at the bookshop. No longer foul-smelling, the flower was an even more vivid red than Eric had recalled, the speckles on its petals looking even more intricate. 

* * *

“Um, are you sure about this? I’m not sure I’m cool enough to be on your Insta…” 

“Nonsense. I’m also on TikTok — took credit for that, by the way — so it’s not like I have a consistent image. Being chaotic **_is_ ** my ‘aesthetic,’” Crowley responded. “‘S not like I’m one of those influencers that post picture-perfect shots with pretentious captions all the time. Ready?”

“Yeah, I guess.” The hesitance in Eric’s tone was hard to miss.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine, Eric,” Aziraphale said gently.

Crowley pressed a button on his screen, and immediately, his followers were notified that “ **ajcrowley666 is live now**.”

“‘Sup y’all, it’s A.J. Crowley. So, I don’t do Insta-lives like this, or whatever you call it, very often, but today I’ve got a former colleague of mine joining me here. Everyone, meet Eric.”

Eric waved awkwardly.

“Only ever talked to him a few times, but he was the rare ex-colleague that wasn’t an insufferable turd. He was always very sheltered, though. Now, he’s trying to break free and do his own thing, but he doesn’t know where to start, and, my angel and I… we thought this could be a good starting point for him. He’s been trying to find his own style and people to vibe with, so, I dunno, maybe some of you could help?”

The live session was very casual, so Eric didn’t feel nervous for long; he found it very much like a regular conversation, albeit without the responders’ voices. After the broadcast, he checked his Instagram to find a rather detailed message from one pepper_moonchild:

“Hey Eric! Welcome! First of all, love your hair — I’m sure some of us would love to know how you style it. I just want you to know that I think you already have your own style — you just have to keep building up on it!

“Second, my mum grew up really sheltered, too, so maybe you could join Aziraphale and Crowley the next time we visit. She’d be happy to chat with you! 

Lastly, if you’re having trouble looking for friends in person, Twitter and Discord are more suited for that sort of thing compared to here on Insta!”

Eric was beginning to understand why Crowley loved social media so much.

  
  


* * *

1 Not that he’d dare tell Hastur to his face, of course. [return to text]

2 Although most of its denizens couldn’t quite understand exactly what smartphones were (Hastur had asked, “What makes them smart? Are they sentient?”), Hell, going by Crowley’s reports, had more than approved of smartphones because of all the vices: sloth, lust, greed — you name it. It inspired plenty of negative energy and modern-day sins, too, like stealing company time and blowing one’s cash on in-game purchases. [return to text]

3 Naturally, Eric had to first assure Crowley that this was not a trap laid out by Hell, and that he was messaging the retired demon in his individual capacity. He could only hope that Crowley would take his word for it. [return to text]

4 Eric was pretty sure that next to Crowley, he was the second most technologically proficient demon, but he didn’t want to take any chances. They could still _attempt_ to pry. [return to text]

**Author's Note:**

> The corpse flower in this fic is mainly based on the [rafflesia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rafflesia), the world's largest flower, which can be found in the jungles and rainforests of Southeast Asia. It's known for giving off a smell like that of a rotten corpse (or rotten meat) to attract pollen-transporting flies. Apparently, some students erroneously claimed that the rafflesia's name in the Malay language translates to "corpse flower" — a misconception that, unfortunately, became widely reported as fact because someone added it to Wikipedia. 
> 
> There is, however, another plant called the [corpse flower](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amorphophallus_titanum), which is endemic to Indonesia, also in Southeast Asia. It should go without saying that, considering their size, smell, and habitat, the rafflesia and the corpse flower are not indoor plants!


End file.
